Making Her Mine (Sweet Somethings Book 3)

by Rory Reynolds

  I take a shower and try to stop the flow of tears. It doesn’t work. I get into my comfiest pajamas and see all of his things, the things I loved being mixed in with mine, and it makes me angry. I pull out his empty bag and start shoving all his stuff into it. When it’s overflowing, I toss the bag onto the porch and slam the door. Let that be his welcome home and goodbye all wrapped up into one.

  I collapse onto my bed, tears still flowing. I pick up my phone twice to call my friends, but I just know Lani will be all 'give him another chance; it’s sweet that they did everything to try to get you to see what was right in front of you.' Margo will tell me I’m being irrational. I definitely don’t want to hear any of that tonight. I want to stay cloaked in my self-righteous anger a little longer.

  So I call Prue, who is at my door in ten minutes with a bottle of wine that I can’t drink, just in case, and a bakery box that I know is full of cupcakes from Sprinkled With Sugar. Those I can have… at least two, I decide. Heartbreak means calories don’t count. At least that’s what Margo says.

  “Tell me what happened and who I need to kill,” Prue says the moment she sees I’ve been crying. “That bastard hurt you, didn’t he? Tell Auntie Prue what happened so I know just how bad to torture him before I put him down.”

  I roll my eyes at her dramatic threats but instantly feel better, knowing that my friend is here and has my back no matter what. I give her a hug and take the box from her. I don’t start talking until after my first cupcake. Halfway through my story, Prue pours two glasses of wine. I shake my head declining it. I catch myself before my hand goes to my belly in a protective move, but my perceptive friend doesn’t miss it.

  She looks from my face to my stomach and back again. “Did that bastard knock you up?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  I stand up and start pacing. “It means we haven’t exactly been using protection, okay?”

  Prue looks at me like I’ve grown an extra head. Or maybe she’s having an aneurism. It’s hard to tell the difference.

  “Alright,” she finally says. “Tell me the rest of it.”

  So I do. I tell her how Grandma Ruth bought this house in an attempt to get me to fall in love with Carson, how he turned this house into my dream house to manipulate me. “They both manipulated me!” I cry, sounding a bit deranged even to my own ears.

  Outside there is a car door slamming, and then headlights pull away down the street. I hear heavy footfalls on the porch. I can just imagine the look on his face when he sees his bag of stuff sitting on our porch—my porch, I correct. Then he’s knocking on the door.

  “Go away, Carson,” I yell through a new wave of tears.

  He knocks again. At least he’s not using his key. He’s at least respecting me enough to let me decide if he comes in or not. Even if he is being stubbornly persistent. “Ana, let me in, we need to talk.”

  I shake my head no but can’t make the words happen. Prue rolls her eyes and gets up to open the door. She keeps her booted foot on the inside of the door, so it only opens a couple of inches.

  “She doesn’t want to talk to you right now.”

  I can’t hear what he says, but I have a feeling he’s laying the charm on thick, trying to get Prue to let him in. Thankfully my friend is loyal. Even though I can’t hear what they are saying because they are both talking in low voices, I know she’s not going to let him past her, and that’s what matters right now.

  Finally, the door closes, and I can hear Carson retreating back to his own house. I instantly regret it. “What did you say to him?”

  Prue gives a noncommittal shrug, “You know the usual threats to life and limb.” For some reason, I’m not so sure I believe her. She seems way to calm for having threatened him. I’m too tired to worry about it right now.

  She stays for another hour, talking about the owner of the old bar at the edge of town that’s been closed for years. Some city boy bought it, and it needs a ton of work. Apparently, the new owner isn’t from around here and has no loyalty to hiring local businesses. She growls the last part. “Can you even believe that?”

  I shake my head. If the new owner wants to get anywhere in this town, they better learn really quick that we are loyal to local businesses. There’s no better way to piss off the locals than to outsource things when there is someone right here in town that can do the work. The other thing that’ll get them blackballed is to open a business and buck the tradition of naming it after something sweet.

  We talk until I’m yawning like crazy from exhaustion. Prue gives me a comforting hug and tells me everything will work out exactly how it’s supposed to… a very Margo thing to say, and I tell her so. She laughs. “Maybe you sentimental fools are rubbing off on me.”

  As soon as she’s gone, I go to bed, hiding under my covers and feeling lonely without Carons in bed with me. It’s crazy how quickly I got used to not sleeping alone. I pull his pillow close to my chest and breathe in his scent. I finally fall into a fitful sleep.

  12

  Carson

  Ana still refuses to talk to me. It’s been three days since I’ve seen her smile, and it’s killing me. She called in the last two days at the diner, and I’m starting to get worried. She never misses work. She’s been holed up in her house this whole time. The only life coming and going is Prue. She brings white boxes from Sprinkled With Sugar and bags from the grocery store. At least someone is taking care of her, I tell myself for the dozenth time.

  I’m outside mowing her lawn when I see the curtain’s twitch. She’s watching me. Good. I want her to see that I’m not going anywhere. She means too damn much for me to let her get away.

  At nine, she comes out of the house for the first time in days and gets into her car. She starts it, and it sputters then dies. She tries it again, and it won’t turn over. Sounds like a bad alternator… something I can easily fix if she’ll let me.

  She bangs her head on the steering wheel before picking up her phone and dialing someone. Five minutes later, the Sugar Plumb van pulls up, and Ana escapes into it, not looking my direction once. Prue gives me a meaningful look then drives off with my heart.

  I tow Ana’s car to the shop and not only fix the alternator but give the whole thing a tune-up. I replace several wires and belts and change all of the fluids. By the time I’m done, the engine is purring like a kitten, better than the day it was driven off the lot. I drive the car back to her house and replace the spare car key on the hook before locking up her house again. A house that was starting to feel like home to me.

  I hop on my bike and head to the diner. Even if she won’t talk to me, I can at least see her. She gives me a scowl like the old days when I sit in her section. She says something to Daisy, the other waitress on shift, and Daisy heads my way.

  “Why don’t you move on over to my section, sugar.”

  I shake my head. “I’m fine here.”

  She shakes her head. “You hurt my girl bad. I won’t stand by and watch you hurt her more.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt her. She misunderstood the conversation. I didn’t even know that was the reason Ruth bought the house. I thought it just looked like Ana’s dream house.”

  “And what about fixin’ it up? That’s a bit farther than sellin’ a house.”

  I nod. “It is, but I want her to have everything her heart desires. Fixing the house how she wants is a small thing.”

  Daisy snorts. “Just like fixin’ her car without her knowledge? Don’t think half the town doesn’t know what you did and what you’re tryin’ to do to make it right.”

  “I didn’t do it for any reason other than wanting to take care of Ana. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’ll do anything… anything for her.”

  “Good. You just keep doin’ what you’re doin’. She’ll come around.”

  Ana finally comes to my table when Daisy tells her I refuse her service. I remind myself to give her a free o
il change next time she comes into the shop.

  “What do you want?” Ana asks, sounding peeved.

  “To talk.”

  She shakes her head, exasperated. “Not going to happen. Anything from the menu, or would you mind clearing out of my table so I can get some paying customers?”

  “I’ll have some of your biscuits and gravy.”

  Ana rolls her eyes. “You know that’s not on the menu. I can get you some of Amos’ biscuits if you’d like.”

  “I suppose.”

  She stomps off, writing down my ticket. I can imagine her writing a note to make my food extra special… like dropped on the floor or spit in. Thank God Amos is my friend and wouldn’t dare do such a thing. Though his wife is Ana’s best friend and he does have a soft spot for my girl. Maybe I won’t eat after all.

  Ana is home a few hours later and notices that her car is backed into her driveway instead of pulled forward like normal—the only note I left letting her know that her car was fixed. She looks over at me, where I’m in the driveway giving my bike a tune-up it doesn’t need just so I can catch a glimpse of my girl.

  She chews on her bottom lip, then opens her car door and starts it. When it starts without issue, she lays her head on her steering wheel, and I think she’s crying, but I can’t tell from here. She stays like that for a long minute, then stands and goes into her house, not looking my direction once.

  An hour later, there is a knock on my door. She’s already gone by the time I get there, but a dish with biscuits and gravy is sitting on the porch with a piece of paper taped to it that says, ‘thank you.’

  The car was a peace offering of sorts. The biscuits are an acceptance of that. Progress. Slow, but progress just the same.

  13

  Ana

  It’s hard to stay mad at someone who is doing everything in their power to show you how much they care. Carson has been a steady force of nature in my life since I threw him out. If I’m honest with myself, I’ve regretted it every single day, but I can’t seem to make my way past my hurt to forgive and forget. Every time I think I am ready to talk to him again, which is basically every time I see him, I talk myself out of it.

  I didn’t realize it until now, but part of the reason I’ve not had a relationship until Carson is because I’m afraid to get hurt. Probably damage leftover from my dad abandoning me after my mom died… Love is scary. The feeling is too big, too powerful, and I don’t know how to cope with the possibility that I could have it and then lose it. Which is almost funny considering I’m in love with Carson and have pushed him away all on my own.

  I let out a sigh as I get ready for work, wondering if he’ll show up at the diner again. He’s been there every day I’ve worked… only after the first day, he has sat in someone else’s station and just watched and waited from afar.

  It makes my heart hurt. Everything makes my heart hurt these days. One thing in particular—I’m late. My period is officially five days late, and I don’t think it’s because of stress. I mean, that’s a real possibility, but unlikely. I refuse to take a pregnancy test, though. I’m too scared. I thought I would be okay with a co-parent situation. I know Carson will be an amazing father regardless of our relationship status… but co-parenting isn’t what I want. I don’t think it ever was.

  I let out another sigh as I watch him wipe his sweaty forehead with his discarded shirt. He’s mowing my lawn again, even though it hardly needs it. He’s been perfect at staying at a distance but never allowing me to forget he’s right here, ready to take care of me.

  First, he listened to Prue and gave me the space I asked for—and instantly regretted by the way. He fixed my car without me asking after it wouldn’t start. He unobtrusively did it while I was at work then delivered it back without a word. It runs better than it ever has, of course. He cleaned my gutters and mowed my lawn… he’s been here for the taking without being in my face about it.

  I sort of wish he would get so in my face his lips meet mine. I miss our passion. The fire that burns between us anytime we touch.

  Letting out a forlorn sigh, I finish getting ready for work, hoping that he will be there, sitting across the room and watching over me. I’m really getting a dose of be careful what you wish for. I wished for space, and now I regret how true that wish has become.

  I desperately want him to barge in here and make me listen. Tell me that this house that I love wasn’t just some kind of set up to manipulate me into a relationship. Margo tried to get me to see reason—it worked, of course. She asked me what and why the motivation would be for Carson to manipulate me. I couldn’t come up with a single valid reason. If I didn’t want a relationship, I would have stuck to my guns about our mutual hate and ignored him. That’s not how it happened. After that initial push, I basically fell headlong into a relationship that became everything to me.

  Margo finally got me to believe that the only person I should be upset with in this whole scenario is Grandma Ruth. She’s the one who masterminded the whole situation. She saw something I never did. I was so blinded by my hurt at Carson’s meanness that I never once saw my own budding love for him.

  But she did.

  She’s called me several times, but each time I’ve sent her to voicemail. Her message today said to expect her on my doorstep after my shift at the diner. She even threatened to spank me if I dared to avoid her. For some reason, I believed every word. She never once spanked me as a child, but I also never gave her a reason to.

  I thought about staying gone. Maybe sleeping on Prue’s couch to avoid the confrontation. But I hate that I’m not talking to my grandmother. I love her, and I miss her steady strength in my life. She’s been the only one to love me unconditionally since mom died, and even though she went behind my back, even I can admit she did it out of love. The least I can do is hear her out.

  My shift flies by as my anticipation grows. Maybe anticipation is the wrong word. Trepidation might be better. Carson doesn’t come in today and I’m disappointed. Can I really blame him? How many days will he really waste away sitting here watching over me?

  I’m barely home ten minutes before Grandma Ruth is knocking on my door. I cringe, knowing this conversation could get ugly fast. Based on the look on her face, I’m not far off on my assessment.

  “Stubborn as a mule,” she says as she enters my home. “I swear I don’t know where you got that from.”

  I raise my brow because we both know exactly where I got my stubbornness from. She’s the most stubborn person on the planet. It’s something I’ve always admired about her, though. She sticks to her guns and never lets anyone walk all over her. Unlike me, she’s not afraid to tell it like it is.

  “Don’t you sass me, young lady,” she says, pursing her lips. I can’t help but laugh. It’s the first time I’ve laughed in days. It feels good. “Come here, little bird.”

  She pulls me into a hug. Her strong arms wrapping around me in a way that only a parent can do. It’s then that I realize I’m both laughing and crying. My emotions so wildly out of control, I can’t feel just one thing at any given time. I feel them all.

  “I’m sorry, Analise. Can you forgive a meddling old lady? I just want you to be happy. I saw how the man looks at you, and I knew there wasn’t a bit of hate in his being when it comes to you. And you, my little bird, you might’ve convinced yourself that you hated him, but you know better now, don’t you?”

  I nod my head, tears still streaming down my cheeks. She’s not wrong. “I just… why did you guys go behind my back like that?”

  “No, kiddo, that was all me. I bought the house all on my own. Not only was it perfect, but it was made even more so because Carson would always be right there. I’d hoped that you would see him for who he really is.

  “Now, the fixed-up version… that was all him. Once he learned I bought the place for you, he wanted to make sure you’d be happy here. Even if you never saw past the hatred. He wanted you to have the home of your dreams.”

  Tears are
once again welling up in my eyes. I don’t even pretend to hold them back. I hug my grandma tight, letting her know I forgive her.

  “Now, are you going to put that poor man out of his misery?”

  “I think I might.”

  “Good. Now that that’s all settled, I’ve got myself a date to get to.” She leaves in a whirlwind of goodbyes, not giving me the opportunity to ask just who it is she’s going on a date with.

  An hour later, I’m staring at the word “pregnant” on the pregnancy test I just took—excitement and nervousness war inside me. For a brief moment, I wonder what will happen if Carson rejects me. I’ll be pregnant with the man I loves baby and alone. That’s not going to happen, though.

  It’s not. I give myself another pep talk in the mirror and then head over to Carson’s house. I heard his bike pull into the garage ten minutes ago. Now or never. I take a deep breath before I knock on his front door. He answers a moment later, and I come face to face with the man I’m in love with for the first time in days.

  Yeah, he’s been around, but this is the first time I’ve allowed myself to be so close. The first time I’ve wanted to be close. My instincts say to throw myself into his arms and never let go, but I know we have to talk… about more than one thing.

  “Ana,” he breathes my name like it’s the only oxygen he needs.

  I swallow thickly, trying to get up my nerve… “Can we talk?”

  He flinches back, and I think that it’s too late. I’m already taking a step back when he reaches out and grabs me. “Baby, don’t cry. Please, you’re killing me with those tears.”

  Once again, I’m crying and didn’t realize it. If this is what pregnancy hormones do to me, I’ve got a long nine months ahead of me. Hopefully, a long nine months where Carson comforts me just like he is right now because his arms feel like home and my soul feels at peace for the first time since I sent him away.